It all feels like a betrayal to War.
“Brandon,” I murmur, dragging my gaze away from his, “he was…”
His knee moves and I let out a whimper. My dream was so vivid and my nerve endings are still alive. The simple touch of his nudge sends my heart racing.
“He must’ve been something to you, babe,” he says in a hushed tone, a hint of revulsion in his voice. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have been riding my leg and moaning his name.”
To reiterate his point, he drags his thumb over my nipple and I gasp, my hips involuntarily bucking against him.
“Brandon, stop,” I whimper.
He groans but his hand leaves my breast and underneath my shirt to rest on my hip. “I thought you were dreaming about me.” His voice is husky and I can sense the feeling of betrayal in it.
“I…” I trail off, not sure of how to explain this to him. “He…”
“Did you fuck him?”
I flinch at the harsh way he spits out the crude words.
“It wasn’t like that. I loved him,” I choke out with a sob.
“Like you loved me?”
A tear rolls down my temple and our eyes meet again. “I loved him differently.”
He swallows and breaks our stare. His face is a storm of emotions. Eyebrows pinching together in anger, followed by sorrow as if he might cry. Nose flaring with each upset breath. Lips pressed into a line to keep from spewing words of hate at me.
“I searched for you.” His voice is a mere whisper. “This whole time, I searched for you when nobody else would.” When his watery green eyes meet mine, I ache to soothe the boy I once loved. Our love was simple and easy. Our love was nothing like the otherworldly, all-consuming love I had with War.
Had.
Because he’s dead now.
“And you found me,” I tell him, the emotion in my throat making it ache.
His palm finds my cheek and he strokes it with the pad of his thumb. “Will you love me like you loved him?”
Before I can answer him, the voice—the one that stole me from my sweet dream and turned it to a nightmare—beckons me.
“B-Baylee.”
My heart thumps in my chest. Brandon scrambles off the couch and is already stalking into the kitchen before I even roll myself off.
“This is all your fault, you bastard!”
I round the corner in time to see Brandon backhand Gabe across the cheek. Gabe makes a grunting sound from the force of Brandon’s hit. When he rears back to hit him again, I push him away.
“Stop it! I need answers and if you knock him out, I won’t get those answers,” I shout and give him another shove.
He grumbles under his breath but doesn’t go at Gabe again. Gabe, who doesn’t look much like himself because of his swollen face, bloody nose, and bright red cheek, lifts his head to look at me. His dark eyes lock with mine.
I expect to see anger or fury.
What I don’t expect is to see a flicker of regret.
“Why didn’t you tell me she died?!” My voice is shrill and I hug my arms to my chest to keep from hitting him myself. “I was here, getting violated by you, all the while unknowing of the fact that my mother had died.”
Brandon growls behind me, but I ignore him and keep Gabe in the sights of my rage.
“I didn’t know she died, sweet girl. It wasn’t until after I sold you that I learned the truth,” he says, voice dropping low as his gaze flits over to Brandon briefly. “When I came back, I’d learned she’d passed. I was planning on telling you today but you ran away…”
I search his eyes for deception but find none. If anything, I sense what appears to be despondency. An emotion I didn’t think Gabe was capable of. He’s sad she’s gone. Before he’d gone psycho by abducting me, he’d been close to my parents.
“Why wasn’t my dad looking for me?” I blurt out, the thought of my father causing my heart to ache. “War and I searched for anything related to my kidnapping and there was nothing. Is my daddy hurt? Did you hurt him?” Tears well in my eyes and I shudder. I’m not sure if I’m strong enough to hear the answer.
Gabe turns his head to glare at Brandon and spits out his words. “Why don’t you ask Brandon that question?”
I jerk my head to see Brandon’s chest heaving with rage. Before I can stop him, he darts forward and slams his knuckles across Gabe’s temple, rendering him unconscious.
“What the hell did you do that for?” I screech and throw my hands up in the air.
He lets out a fierce growl that chills me. “He was getting loose,” he says, motioning to the rope holding Gabe to the chair. “He’d managed to loosen the rope around his wrist. I’ll string him up tighter. Why don’t you go lie down and rest? You’re awfully pale, babe.”